


Arranged Marriage

by Kuito



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bad Older Brothers, F/M, Family Drama, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Non-con/dub-con, Warring States Period (Naruto), for the greater good, soulmark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28276308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuito/pseuds/Kuito
Summary: On the eve of her sixteenth birthday Sakura realizes her brothers are more invested in peace than in her happiness. As she watches the world pass by from the safety of her gilded cage she's left to dream for freedom and love.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Hatake OC, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 13
Kudos: 84





	Arranged Marriage

Sakura spends her sixteenth birthday locked behind doors with only the tinkling of the wooden chimes outside her bedroom window as company. The maids are instructed not to speak with her and no amount of begging or crying stray them from their tasks in ignoring her. The staff are used to her bouts of sobbing. They would rather deal with her sadness and dramatics than risk the younger lord’s volatile temper.

Her personal attendant is diligent in resealing doors and windows on orders from her older brother while he assists their clan head in negotiations with the Uchiha clan. He leaves the Senju compound angry with thunder clouds rolling and gathering electricity smearing the sky a dark grey. A precursor to the chilling rain and lighting he sends while his temper simmers.

It’s on the second week of her isolation that her sister-in-law decides to visit bringing small gifts from her brothers that were intended to be given on her birthday celebration but were instead put away on account of her disobedience and Tobirama completely losing his temper while Hashirama turned away disappointed.

Sakura squirms in her cushioned seat while the maids set sweets and hot tea on the table. Mito doesn’t acknowledge her as she watches Sakura with a bored gaze, and she waves to a maid closest to her.

“Please inform me when my lord husband has returned. He is due to arrive today,” she says.

Sakura ducks her head trying to hide the shame staining her cheeks. She fiddles with the warm cup on the table spinning it in slow circles as Mito places two wrapped boxes in colorful paper next to the plate of sugar drenched sponge cakes.

“Yes, my lady.” The maid bows then leaves with a quiet tap of the shoji doors sliding closed.

“I will not reiterate how disappointed I am of you but know that Hashirama came very close to letting Tobi flogging you.” She starts coldly not taking her eyes off Sakura as she watches the younger girl hunch her shoulders higher.

“I understand,” Sakura mumbles into the silk bunching around her neck.

“No,” Mito begins sharply while narrowing her eyes. “I don’t think you do. Otherwise you would not be in this predicament simpering like a child for being caught while your brothers and clanmates work hard ending this blood war.”

The swift slap of Mito’s fan on the wooden table startles a squeak out of Sakura causing her to spill the hot tea across her lap and floor. She sits with the tea pooling and seeping in the fabric of her kimono blinking back tears as Mito furrows her brows with a frown tugging at her painted lips.

“You are,” she begins, “a spoiled and ungrateful girl. I will not have you sabotaging your brother’s hard work and his goals for our clan with your thoughtlessness and actions.”

Glistering tears begin to roll down Sakura’s cheek as she silently nods while tightly holding onto the porcelain tea cup. Mito’s body relaxes, shoulders easing from the tense posture and a silent breath escapes from her mouth.

“Good,” she says after taking a sip of the spiced tea.

———–

It’s not until dinner time that Hashirama returns from negotiations with the Uchiha clan leaving Tobirama behind at the gate to wrap up loose ends. He comes in weary and dusty from the travel, cloak thrown onto the floor as he hastily unwraps his weapons to hand over to the mousey maid waiting by the door. While Mito is pouring him a cup of sake Sakura is quick to shoo the maid away from preparing Hashirama a steaming plate of food and instead takes over. He ignores her and instead greets Mito with a small smile leaning over to hold her cheek affectionately. Mito in turn nuzzles into the skin of his hand to kiss his palm.

“Hello dear wife.” The crinkle in his eyes brings a smile to Mito’s face and Sakura stands awkwardly behind them to be acknowledged. He sinks into his seat with a groan, “I am famished. I think Tobi won’t be too upset if I start without him.”

Sakura waits a little more, wringing her hands nervously as Hashirama begins to eat and talk quietly. Mito only spares her a side glance before going back to watch Hashirama speak, pouring him another cup of sake then pouring tea into a cup to place at the empty seat next to him. Within minutes Tobirama comes storming in the room, dismissing Sakura, nodding to Mito and Hashirama and sits down.

“Pray tell big sister, why you have decided to ignore my explicit orders of not letting the prisoner out of her cell?” he snarks leaning over to reach for the pot of tea to refill Hashirama’s empty sake cup.

From beside him Hashirama only frowns as he watches Tobirama move the sake bottle away from him, pouring tea for Mito then setting the tea pot in Sakura’s spot. Sakura doesn’t make a noise, still waiting to be called upon as she stands with teary eyes and a quivering pink mouth.

“Oh, dear little brother,” Mito daintily covers her mouth peering at Tobirama in amusement. “This lowly one greatly seeks your forgiveness. Clearly I am not worthy of your presence.”

Huffing in amusement Tobirama shakes his head before a breathy chuckle rumbles deep from his chest. The sound of his quiet laughter causes Mito to laugh and they both dissolve in uncontrolled chuckles. With snickers shared between them Hashirama is left to his own devises, glad Mito has distracted his younger brother in order to sneak alcohol. Reaching back blindly away from Tobirama’s sight Hashirama grasps Sakura’s hand squeezing softly to catch her attention. Delighted, Sakura leans against his back eager to please him to gain back his favor.

“Little sister,” he whispers. “Your niichan would really,” he stops to glance at Tobirama then stares back at her wide eyed, “appreciate more tea.”

The wink he thinks he executes smoothly is nonexistent as Sakura is left perplexed as she notices his tea cup is still full of tea.

“Oh, but niisan,” she starts quietly only to squeak, flinching when Tobirama uses Mito’s fan on the surface of the dining table. Taking that as their cue, the maids slowly file out of the room to leave the family to deal with their drama. One of them quietly laments, betting with her neighbor the chances of finding either the furniture soaked in water and adorned with scorching marks of lighting or if they’ll find the room overtaken by flora by the end of the meal.

“I should send you back to your room never to see light again with chakra seals etched on your ankles,” he says coldly with an elbow on the table, fan grasped tightly in his hand glaring at Sakura. “Perhaps then you’ll finally learn that you are not to invite men into your den without a chaperone!”

“Tobi, Sa-chan is not a prisoner,” Hashirama says, frowning deeply when Tobirama growls at him, baring his teeth. Sakura whines embarrassedly.

“Sit down, you little brat.” She scurries to her seat as he rounds back to Hashirama glaring as his older brother rears back with a pout and hands up, “You’re the reason she is so insolent and clueless!”

“Tobi! Please spare me little brother,” he cries, hands reaching over only to have Tobirama slap them away with Mito’s fan while she snickers behind her sleeve. Her other hand gently pets Sakura’s hair absentmindedly while Sakura watches with blotchy red cheeks squirming nervously.

“If you hadn’t spoiled her rotten and babied her,” he jabs the fan into Hashirama’s ribs hard, “I wouldn’t have had to treat her like a prisoner!”

“I’m so sorry! Tobi!” he blubbers, tears misting his eyes and threatening to fall just as Sakura whines into Mito’s shoulder.

“I swear the both of you are morons!” Tobirama stresses, punctuating each word with a harder jab until Hashirama is wailing mercy.

Taking a deep breath, Tobirama visibly calms down, mind exhausted as he realizes causing bodily harm to his brother won’t change the outcome from the past three weeks. Hashirama seems to pick up on his mood and sobers up, eyes clear and sad as they both turn to look at Sakura. Mito softly turns Sakura’s head with a hand on the cheek to face them, hand sliding from her face to wrap around her tiny shoulders.

“Little sister,” begins Hashirama gently, “The Senju and Uchiha have settled on peace, but only through means of a marriage between the main lines.”

Sakura tenses, body wound tightly, breath hitching and hands shaking on her lap. Mito rubs her arm soothingly trying to help soften the blow.

“The Uchiha heard of your dalliance with the Hatake boy,” Tobirama continues, “though brief as it was rumors were spread that you were eloping due to an unplanned pregnancy. And even though we are allies with the Hatake clan it would be a slight against the Uchiha clan if we were to give up the only daughter of the main line who is of marriageable age to a nomadic and lesser clan.”

Hashirama pushes his food away. “The Uchiha clan hold a title of nobility. Your birth was not an accident. Butsuma wanted the Senju to be received as a noble clan and after his petition to the Daimyo was denied he sought your mother…Madara and his clan know you are of noble stock. They won’t accept anything less.” 

“I… I don’t understand,” her breathing becomes faster, “I wasn’t acknowledged by Ojiisama and besides I thought Otousama had already arranged my marriage with the Hatake clan. I’m supposed to marry Sano-kun, I—”

Hashirama leans across his wife to clasp Sakura’s fisted hand, “I broke the marriage contract the moment I became clan head. Sano coming here was forbidden, but I gave my consent when he promised to steer away from you as he was only here to help great Uncle in delivering goods. Had I known he was sneaking around to see you I would—”

He got up the moment Sakura genuinely began to cry, eyebrows furrowing and mouth twisting in anguish. Hashirama wraps her in his arms, nuzzling her hair, “I’m sorry little flower. I promised you to Madara many years ago. You bear his soul mark.”

“No!” She cries into his chest, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, “I’m supposed to marry Sano-kun. I love him! I don’t care about my title or Madara!”

With a cheek resting on her head Hashirama whispers, blowing strands of blush colored hair, “And I am obligated as clan head to think of our people above just one individual.”

“Our clan will prosper, and bloodshed will cease,” Mito says, bending over Hashirama’s arms circled around Sakura to offer another barrier of comfort.

“No harm will come to you and my worries are settled knowing you will be kept safe with the Uchiha clan instead of roaming across the lands with the Hatake clan and through possible conflict with other tribes.”

“Safe is not the same as happy,” she weeps brokenly.

Tobirama has to look away, frown edged deeply, twisting his features and making the red tattoos more prominent on his skin. “No, it is not,” he whispers.

———–

Sakura meets her fiancé and his last living brother the following month during peace talks. She spends all morning in a carriage with Mito alternating between dozing, reading, and begging to be let out to ride with her brothers. Hashirama pretends to go deaf and nearly falls off his horse when Tobirama shoots a water bullet near his face when Sakura’s complaining become louder.

Things between the siblings are tense and Hashirama refuses to acknowledge the hurt and complications caused by his actions. Sakura has made it her life goal to be more annoying and brattier just to spite him. She knows Hashirama will either cave in soon enough or pass her off to Tobirama who will more likely sequester her off to Whirlpool to cool her temper.

The ride is terribly bumpy it has her moaning to Tobirama who merely sighs as he watches their brother blink innocent eyes back with a tilted head. Though the relationship between the siblings growing up was positive, majority of the rearing of the younger siblings fell upon Tobirama who had better instincts. Hashirama tended to spoil them, passionate in his endeavor to provide anything of their heart’s desire but would usually bail the moment he had to correct their behavior. Tobirama had no such qualms about disciplining them and was usually correcting them with hard pinches to the necks or ears.

Hashirama blanches when he makes the sign for a water bullet and he hastily moves ahead of the Senju party to lead. Coming close enough to softly bump heads together Tobirama nudges Sakura’s hair with his nose to scent her, normally a habit loosely practiced at home, but with his anger still thrumming in his veins due to the arranged marriage to Madara and the broken contract with the Hatake, his instincts are going haywire and demand extra nuzzles. Hashirama coos and then proceeds to gush about his littlest siblings, spouting poems and literal roses while Mito giggles and fans herself.

Tobirama snarls when other members of their clan begin snickering. Touka sends him a sharp smile, lips stretched wide when he pushes Sakura back in the carriage with a hand to the face and she squawks when she makes impact with Mito’s lap. Mito is quick to pet her hair arranging her to comfortably sooth her for another nap. Sakura grumbles about not being a baby but relents as she feels Mito’s finger pass through her hair feeling her eyes grow heavy.

She wakes to a gentle nudge on her shoulder and finds herself sleepily turning into arms, nosing Tobirama’s chin as he lifts her gently to set her on unsteady feet. Rumbling sleepily, she wraps her arms around his waist, metal armor digging into her cheek, and fully leans on him.

“I will be busy with Hashirama and Mito,” he begins, “Ryu and Tora have been assigned to watch over you.”

Sakura whips her head up to glare at her brother. “What? No! Why can’t I stay with Touka-neesan?”

He gives her an unimpressed stare, “I do not approve of Touka’s influence.”

“But it was only one time and I promised never to attempt to mold chakra for genjutsu again,” she whines. He stares, right eyebrow raising high as she realizes her mistake and quickly corrects herself, “…er, I mean, no chakra molding anything…of any kind…yeah.”

He ignores her and continues speaking calmly, “She will be with us as an extension to the Senju, so, she will be too busy to teach you anything you should not be doing without proper supervision.”

The narrowed eyed stare he sends her causes her to deflate, body sagging, and pout fully formed as he pushes her towards the cousins waiting patiently. Tora is smiling widely to receive her, but Ryu who is older by almost two decades and is serious as death merely glances at her.

“Tora-niisan,” she mumbles.

His smile grows wider, “Princess.”

Sakura glances up at Ryu, narrows her eyes and crosses her arms, turning her nose away. “Ryu.”

“Brat,” he says catching the small hand that is aimed to his person. He sighs at her complaining, grabbing hold of her wrist to twist her around to hold her close. She squeaks loudly when he snakes an arm around her waist to pull her hard against his chest to muffle her screeching.

“We’ll watch over her and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid,” he tells Tobirama.

“Please do, otherwise I might just have to implement a harsher training regimen if our shinobi can’t keep an eye on Sakura.” He doesn’t mean to sound abrasive, but he has a feeling Sakura will in fact do something stupid like run off and potentially offend someone important.

As sweet and loving as she is Sakura is identical to Hashirama in ways that Tobirama likes to fondly call morons with diarrhea of the mouth. The only sane one in their household is Mito, but sometimes she has her moments of lunacy when she’s romancing Hashirama.

The hall is overcrowded and with not enough seats for all the members present some are turned away. It’s mostly the women who are escorted away whose only role for the day is to be a decoration for their husbands and clan. They are ushered to a separate building with their maids tagging along some who carry babes and baskets.

Nobody complains as plans for a foundation to a new village become the major focus and they happily converse amongst themselves trading recipes or tricks with dealing with fussy toddlers. Sakura heaves an unhappy sigh, bored as she watches an Uchiha mother tickling a toddler while her companion embroiders.

The thread used is vibrant and matches the red donned on their backs. The glossy embroidery of stitched birds and flowers in colors of sunrises shine against the purple and navy of their clothing. Sakura glances at her kimono, embarrassed with the muted colors of their clan and hides her hands in the sleeves to clench them.

She feels out of place without Mito by her side to guide her and Sakura ponders why her brothers even bothered bringing her along. Staying home would have been a better option and the day could have been spent in the garden shuffling through tall grass finding mildly poisonous flowers to soak in Hashirama’s sake.

The fingernails biting in the skin of her palm reminds her she is not trusted, not fully, to make good with her brother’s desire to unite their clans together. Essentially here in a gilded cage she is put on display for all the different clans to see the Senju’s olive branch to the Uchiha.

Glancing out the window reinforces the distressing thoughts as she spots her babysitters for the day. Her cousins are posted outside the building keeping watch by the window. Tora grins and flashes her a thumbs up when she scowls back at him.

Sakura is interrupted from her dramatic thoughts of murder-suicide by a Nara woman who sits across from her. The smile she sends her causes the skin around her sleepy eyes to crinkle.

“You must be the Senju princess,” she says.

“I uh…yes! I mean,” she flushes and the heat from her cheeks darken when she receives a hum in reply. “Yes, I am. I am the late Senju Butsuma’s daughter, Sakura.”

The Nara woman takes pity on her not commenting on the minor slip in manners and Sakura heaves a small sigh of relief.

“My companions,” she points to the plump Akimichi woman and a blond Yamanaka who wiggles her fingers from across the room, “and I couldn’t help but think that you look like you need rescuing from boredom.”

Sakura stares, mouth closing and opening, face fully flushed red and spreading down her neck. “…am I that obvious?”

The Uchiha with the toddler giggles at her and her friend hides her smile behind the embroidery hoop. “We didn’t want to disturb you,” she says while maneuvering the curly haired toddler who babbles and blows spit bubbles.

Her friend rolls the embroidery thread in a tight loop and places the hoop down on her lap, “Perhaps we should have introduced ourselves instead of giving you space. Nara-san is doing a better job at easing your discomfort than us who will soon be your family.”

“I, um, no, no,” Sakura stammers, “It’s no worries. Please don’t think ill of me for not introducing myself earlier. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

While the Uchiha women smile kindle at her the Nara woman nods, “Yes, of course. Without the Senju and Uchiha coming together the rest of the clans would not have had an opportunity to create history such as yours. Congratulations are in order.”

Sakura hikes her shoulders a little, the mention of her future marriage causes the muscles on her neck to tighten and lock painfully. “Ah, yes. Thank you,” she says lamely.

“Becoming engaged can be daunting,” she says to Sakura, “and even scarier if it is an arranged marriage between two different clans, but there is always a silver lining Senju-sama.”

“Oh, yes indeed!” The Uchiha mother agrees with the Nara woman. She hands the toddler over to her friend and leans closer to Sakura. “When we heard Hashirama-sama claimed their princes bore Madara-sama’s soul mark and was offering your hand in marriage the Uchiha clan celebrated for days. You have no idea how happy you’ve made us for accepting the proposal. We take soul bonds very seriously. Madara-sama is absolutely besotted by your beauty and we can’t wait to have you become part of our family.”

Her friend agrees, nodding her head rapidly, smile stretched wide with dimpling cheeks. The toddler coos on her lap. “We are cousins on his mother’s side. She is Naori and I am Keiko and this little one,” she tickles the toddler’s belly and he erupts in giggles, “is Kagami-chan.”

“A pleasure,” Sakura says confused. The whirlwind of information is a lot to take in.

She never agreed to marry Madara and whether the story given was of her consent with blessings from her brothers the truth lies behind her teeth. It was Hashirama’s will that pushed the wedding forth along with Tobirama’s reluctant guidance even when her heart was set on Hatake Sano. Sakura doesn’t really care much about soul marks or bonds. It all sounds like hog wash from looney people anyways and she laments her predicament again.

An idea starts to form in her mind and Sakura holds back the manic grin that threatens to overtake her face. She straightens her back and smiles demurely at them instead. Naori and Keiko immediately brighten and turn closer to her like flowers in a field basking in sunlight. The Nara woman must have an inkling of what she is planning by the look on her face.

“I suppose I best leave you Senju-sama to this opportunity,” she twists her lips in a mockery of a smile, “of learning more about your future family.”

She bows to her, nods to the Naori and Keiko, then turns to head back to her companions who still watch from across the room. The smile on the Yamanaka slips off her face and the Akimichi shakes her head as they reunite.

Sakura watches as the nameless Nara quietly converses with her companions, hunched together with serious frowns. She ignores the little voice in her head telling her she is about to make a really bad decision and squashes the imaginary voice throwing caution to the wind. Vindictive in her hurt she sweetly calls them, “Naori-neesan, Keiko-neesan, would you happen to have any pointers regarding undetected genjutsu?”

———–

It takes her half an hour to figure it out, but she executes it perfectly with the help from Naori and Keiko. They are reluctant in explaining how the technique functions, but she innocently mentions her interest in jutsu theory and her lack of training. What harm can a weak and spoiled princess cause anyway? It’s not like Sakura has any formal training in the shinobi arts. What they don’t know won’t hurt them and besides Sakura truly believes she is making the right choice by honoring her Otousama’s contract with the Hatake clan. It’s one of the last things he did before he fell in battle against Uchiha Tajima.

Sakura sprints out of the hall undetected, softening her steps to make less noise. Tora and Ryu will catch on soon when the illusion splinters and falls apart. Her chakra stores are not fully developed, and she won’t be able to hold on much longer, but hopefully it will give her enough time to slip away to find a horse.

While concentrating on maintaining the illusion she cast of herself back in the room she dampens her chakra, reversing the flow of the energy swirling inside her body. She brings the excess close to her core and has it mimic the beat a bird’s heart to camouflage against the call of nature outside.

Beads of sweat collect on her forehead and hastily she continues out of breath to put distance between herself and her cousins. Hashirama and Tobirama won’t leave the conference early to stop her. It would make them look bad if they couldn’t control a woman of their clan much less a pampered one. By the time they finish their talks, which is supposed to last several days, she would hopefully be far away enough to hitch a ride with a caravan and be able to blend in.

In her eagerness to evade them Sakura doesn’t watch her steps, too busy looking behind her shoulder to make sure she is not followed. She doesn’t think to check what is in front of her as she’s running and that is her first mistake.

She recognizes him the moment she stumbles upon him quite literally on impact. But before she falls there are large hands gripping her arms, gentle as they steady her. Sakura blinks several times, breath uneven as she cranes her neck to look at the mountain of a man.

He tilts his head to the side, black hair falling across his eye, and the corner of his mouth goes up in a small half smile. Madara lets his subdued chakra come alive to wash over her and it causes a sharp breath to rattle out of her lungs. Whether he means to do it intentionally or not Sakura doesn’t know, but the feel of his chakra intensifies through their physical connection on her arms seeping and vibrating under her skin.

The heat curls from the bottom of her belly and spreads all over warming her from the inside out. Sakura can taste the smoke of his chakra on her tongue almost as if she is standing in front of a blazing fire pit stoking the glowing embers.

Gasping, she weakly leans on him, trembling on her feet as he watches her with a calculating look. “Hm, Hashirama never mentioned your sensitivity to chakra,” he rumbles.

Sakura swears his eyes flare red, but she isn’t sure with how intoxicated she feels. It’s the same feeling she gets when she stays up too late at night to eat sugary sweets in one sitting.

He drags her closer, front to front, and Sakura has to tilt her head completely back to see his face through dazed green eyes. She barely reaches his collarbone, but she has a perfect view of his corded neck. She can’t stop the improper thoughts of what his skin would taste like if she were to put her mouth there.

She wonders if the picture they make is in any way debauched in the way she clings to him, chest rapidly moving and pink hair a mess and as he towers over her, but she can’t properly think through the haze in her mind. It’s as if she’s been hypnotized, heartache bleached dry and forgotten while her worries are washed away.

The warmth of his chakra scorches hotter, leaving behind tendrils of phantom fingers touching her all over her body, not one spot on her skin is left unclaimed. Another gasp from her mouth turns into a needy whine and he responds with a slow wet kiss that has her rubbing her thighs together to alleviate the curling discomfort.

The sound of chuckling brings her slowly back to reality and she flinches, horror and shame dawning on her. The moment of clarity becomes more pronounced when he drops one of her arms to drag a thumb across her lip, pulling the flesh away from her teeth with a predatory look.

“None of that little princess,” he says. There are tears gathering in her eyes, clinging to her lashes, but Sakura is determined not to let them fall and embarrass herself more so than she has already done.

Madara cups her neck, moving her head to tenderly place a kiss on her forehead. She pinches the skin visible on his arm, the space between the cuff of his shirt and gloves, twisting the flesh with her long nails.

“Oh my, seems like she is quite feisty, Niisan! Just your type,” Izuna guffaws in delight as he walks towards them.

The hand on her arm tightens, caressing possessively, then drops to link their finger together. Bringing their linked hands up he kisses her fingers smirking when she tries to tug it away with a scowl etched on her pretty face.

“Izuna, you’re just on time,” Madara says, smirk blooming into a smile as he glances at his younger brother above Sakura’s head. “Mind escorting the Senju’s princess back to her guardians?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Izuna tosses back saucily.

He hands her over to Izuna, mindful of the nails, and places her dainty hand around his brother’s arm. With one last caress he steps away and nods to Izuna, “I’m heading off. Make sure to post Hikaku and Seiji to keep an eye on her along with the Senju. She is not to be underestimated.”

She’s escorted back, humiliated and defeated, with Izuna filling the silence with silly chatter. He tells her of her wedding kimono, though not completed it’s beautiful with its hand painstakingly sewn on jewels, and the number of strong sons Madara wishes to have to the number of cute nieces he would like to have to spoil.

Ryu drops down from the building’s roof, face blank, while Tora whistles impressed. The smile he gives her is not a nice one and Sakura knows he won’t have a problem ratting her out to Hashirama to save his hide. Ryu might just strangle her if Tobirama doesn’t.

The women in the room avoid her and Sakura pretends it doesn’t hurt. Naori and Keiko don’t come near when they spot Hikaku at her side the moment she returns. She spends four days sitting by the window watching the birds take flight while the colors in the sky bleed together.

On the last day Tobirama comes personally to collect her. He nods to Hikaku, face void of any emotions, then grasps Sakura’s hand to place on the crook of his elbow and escorts her to their carriage.

“Tobi-niisan,” she whispers, but is cut off.

“Don’t,” he snaps. Lighting strikes far away, the sound echoes in the distance and the people lingering outside comment on the weather while also intentionally steering away from them by walking around their party setting up for travel.

Their carriage pulls up and he lifts her effortlessly by her waist to sit down for travel. Mito is not present and Tobirama must read the confusion on her face.

“Mito will be riding Anija’s horse for the trip back,” he says. She blanches at the implications but doesn’t ask too scared of the answer. She doesn’t have to wait long before the door opens and Hashirama steps on choosing to sit in front of her and in the middle.

The expression on his face is of cold fury, dark muddy eyes locking on her as he sits straight, arms crossed over his wide chest, imposing height further accentuating the differences between them. Sakura feels smaller than ever, even worse than the summers spent in court all alone away from her home and half-brothers. Sitting in front of Hashirama in an enclosed space and surrounded by the one element he has complete domain over leaves her mute in terror. The wood creaks and flexes, the grooves change in shape and size beneath her palms.

Taking deep breaths through the mouth helps alleviate the feeling of claustrophobia, but Hashirama does not bother reigning in his angry chakra and Sakura spends the rest of the long trip back home in silent tears, gasping for breath with tremors rattling her frame. The forest around them must feel Hashirama’s ire because each giant tree they pass groans and reaches for them, but only manage to scratch the surface of the carriage with their heavy branches.

The stars are already twinkling in the night sky, moon high and bright, by the time they arrive at the Senju compound. Hashirama roughly pulls on her wrist, dragging her out of the carriage the moment they stop, and she stumbles after him, falling and twisting her ankle, but continues to steer her abrasively regardless if she is up on two feet.

“Tobi! Get the sealing inks,” he bellows, and the trees shudder along. The men posted outside turn their gaze away and Sakura watches in horror as they go back to work turning a blind eye.

“No, no, no, please don’t, please,” she cries, “—Niisan, please don’t do this!”

“You have tested my patience one too many times Sakura,” he roars. She feels the roots under the soil move causing small tremors and fissures to appear on the surface.

Sakura weakly tugs at the iron clasp he has on her wrist and he retaliates by holding on tighter. By tomorrow the marks left behind will be black and purple, a band of his fingers around her tiny wrist, and she worries he will accidentally snap the bone in his rage.

“Ouch! Niisan your hurting me.”

Hashirama ignores her, walking straight to his office as he drags her kicking and screaming. Waiting by the door is Touka with a heavy-set frown marring her features, standing straight with her hands behind her back, and Tobirama who is as equally upset holding a lacquered box. The moment Sakura sees the box she doubles her efforts in escaping his hold while crying harder.

She’s thrown roughly on the floor, vines sprouting quickly to wrap around her waist, wrists, and legs to hold her down. Fear seeps into her bones as she watches Hashirama rip off his haori to roll his sleeves up while barking at Touka to disrobe her to last layer of her outfit.

Tobirama sets the box down, slowly pulling out the contents, and arranges it in order to begin pouring a black ink thick as molasses out into a shallow bowl. From the box he pulls out a sharp knife made from bone which he uses to slice into the meat of his palm. The blood pools steadily and when he fists his hand it trickles into the bowl to mix with the ink.

A thick bamboo brush finishes the mixing, completing the process as it activates and turns a vivid red hue like the color of Tobirama’s tattoos.

She turns back to Hashirama, pleading with her eyes, “I’m sorry! Please don’t do this, please!”

Sakura screams when the vines lift one of her legs off the ground causing the nagajuban to part and fall on her thighs. Hashirama takes a hold of her foot keeping her completely immobilized when she tries to weakly kick against the vines wrapped around her. With one hand occupied in squeezing her foot he sticks the other one out to Tobirama expectantly.

The sound she makes when he hands Hashirama the bone knife makes his gut clench. Tobirama is left wondering once again if he’s making the right choice in following and supporting Hashirama as clan head. As much goodness and love Hashirama has in his heart he has just as much festering darkness like their father, who loved them dearly, almost obsessively so, but was also quick to beat them when he lost his temper.

He watches detachedly as his little sister is left gasping between sobbing and writhing on the floor in fear.

When Hashirama makes the first cut she wails in pain. The pitch of her voice leaves an echo ringing in Tobirama’s ears. Over and over it plays, and he knows he will never be able to forget the sounds she makes tonight for as long as he lives.

With her chest arching off the floor Touka must kneel by her head to bodily hold her down and pushes her by the shoulders flushed to the floor. Hashirama grunts in thanks, eyes focused as he carves the skin of her ankles.

He repeats the process to the other ankle and leaves the rest for Tobirama to finish. Sakura is quietly spasming on the floor with tears leaking continuously and bottom lip bitten raw by the time Tobirama begins dipping the brush in ink for the sealing process. With Touka’s hands gently carding through her hair and caressing her face Sakura whimpers one last time before welcoming the darkness edging on her vision.

With a pat on Tobirama’s shoulder Hashirama saunters out of the room. He doesn’t bother staying to clean the mess, his duties are done as clan head to worry about the rest, leaving behind Touka and Tobirama with the aftermath.

———–

There’s a cool breeze the following day. The weather dips before the sun rises and many of the Senju who are awake complain as they begin chores for the day. Sakura lays chest down on the cool surface of the engawa, watching distractedly as members of their clan move along the street, listening the bustle of the day and to the sounds the maids create from the inside of the house.

She’s still wearing the dirty nagajuban from the previous day with the bottom speckled in blood and sealing ink. There are maids waiting by the door ready to assist her on Hashirama’s order no doubt, since a few of them carry presents wrapped in brightly colored paper and bundles of varying flowers.

Sakura doesn’t acknowledge them and refuses to move from the little comfort provided from the spot on the floor. The ache from her swollen ankles sting when she moves, and the wrist cradled by her chest is splotchy in dark purples and blues.

She tenses when she hears heavy set feet walking into the room. No one in the clan walks like that not after all the years spent in war against the Uchiha. Whoever is in the room is intentionally making noise to alert her and announce their presence.

“Leave,” Tobirama growls at the maids and they scurry out the door dropping their bundles.

Sakura hunches her shoulders up wincing in pain and she bites her lip to hold the whimper back. “Please leave me alone,” she whispers into her mangled wrist.

He doesn’t respond, but she hears his tired sigh and the shifting of his clothing as he walks around her to sit by her head. Careful in his movements, he picks her up gently by the underarms and pulls her to lay across his lap. The cry of pain that rips from her mouth, a half-chocked sob, is followed by his keen whine. He bends over her, cradling her as much and as tightly as he can without causing any more agony.

She finally musters enough courage to speak through the pain, “I…I am really sorry, Tobi-niisan. Please believe me.”

“I know,” he drops a kiss on her head and noses the tangled hair, scenting her deeply, “I am too. I suppose we’ve all inherited Butsuma’s awful temper.”

She laughs weakly at the joke then weeps and Tobirama holds her. The rest of the day is spent in his arms listening to stories of his youth spent alternating between the Senju and Hatake as well as stories of how he would find creative ways to hide dead vermin in Hashirama’s belongings. Her favorite are stories of her deceased brothers who she barely remembers.

———–

It takes two full months for the scaring on her ankles to fully heal. The red seals are beautifully painted and jarring against the milky white of her skin. They’re meant to dampen the use of chakra and limit her abilities physically. Activities she enjoyed of frolicking in the fields collecting herbs and flowers as well as swimming with her cousins in the river are no longer doable since walking across the street now requires assistance. She’s never without someone at her side to guide her back home to rest or into a seat.

Hashirama doesn’t bother offering to heal them knowing Sakura is likely to chuck a shoe at his face and he goes on pretending like nothing has happened. Tobirama finds himself loosing his temper more frequently than ever before, more so now as the wedding date draws near, and his nerves crawl when he notices it makes Sakura physically exhausted.

Problems arise soon when it becomes apparent that the Hatake clan haven’t sent a delivery of goods in weeks. It’s not like their clan is hurting without those goods, mostly of salted or smoked meats and woven pelts, but it’s the principal of the matter and it irks on Hashirama’s nerves.

Tobirama ponders on it, hoping it isn’t a retaliation on their end regarding the broken marriage contract between his younger sister the youngest Hatake heir, a cousin of his, because if they challenge Hashirama formally they will not survive to live another day. He doesn’t know how to feel about Hashirama potentially hurting his mother’s family, his family, people who loved him fiercely the moment they met him and taught him to hone his skills only unique to a Hatake.

His brother is reluctant in sending him off to see if there is a problem and rightfully so since it would give the Hatake a better fighting chance if they were to declare war against the Senju especially with Tobirama on their side. Tobirama tends to defer to his older brother only due to upbringing, but he could easily tilt the scale of power and could hypothetically defeat Hashirama in battle.

Hashirama is not the only one who has domain over the earth and while the older brother can call upon all plant matter to do his bidding Tobirama can suck the earth dry of water shriveling the roots and causing the soil to spoil.

Hashirama finally gives in when Mito makes a comment of the coming winter and the need for the pelts and sends Tobirama, Touka, and Ryu to check on the Hatake clan. The same day they leave he receives Madara and an Uchiha party for dinner to commence the final preparations of the wedding and as well to go over the infrastructure plans for their new village.

Sakura is late to dinner, escorted by Touka’s mother and ignores all greetings as she’s gently assisted in sitting down. Hashirama doesn’t take offense more so when he notices Madara’s attention is riveted by her appearance. He hides the smile creeping on his face against the rim of his sake cup.

Clapping his hands loudly brings the attention back to him, “Welcome, welcome Uchiha clan. We are honored to have you here with us in celebration in our coming together as family!”

The chorus of happy agreements and laughter warms his heart and he looks to his side to smile at Mito. She tilts her head, smile in her eyes, as she fills his cup with sake. He can’t help but silently give his thanks for all the good luck that has graced the Senju clan. His arranged marriage to Mito brought not only his happiness, but wealth of knowledge and rare goods. Tobirama’s need to provide for their clan assured many profitable connections and allies. Though he was sad in breaking Sakura’s heart by denying the marriage to Hatake Sano to be fulfilled as their father would have wanted, he knows he did right as he watches Madara and the Uchiha at ease in the Senju compound. No more blood feuds, no more little brothers murdered, peace between the clans, just as they had always dreamed of as boys.

Throughout dinner they laugh and grin while the food and alcohol continue to be replenished. Members of each clan, now slightly inebriated, toast merrily to new beginnings with every interruption of maids bringing food. Hashirama keeps an eye on Sakura as does Madara and they both notice when she starts to list to the side in clear exhaustion. Mari, Touka’s mother, bless her, quickly leaves her husband’s side to assist her.

She turns to Hashirama with a slight frown, “My lord, I believe it is time for our princess to retire for the night.”

He’s about to deny her request, Sakura is an integral part of the celebration and should be present until they send their guests to their rooms for rest but holds back when Madara lays a hand on his arm.

“She is clearly in need of rest, mind if I escort her back to her chambers?”

Aghast, Mari holds the tongue lashing she wishes to give her clan head when he nods. “My lord, that is quite improper,” she says instead.

Madara chuckles, “I should have clarified what I meant, but of course it is improper without a chaperone. Would you care to be our chaperone for the walk back to the princess’ room?”

Izuna coughs loudly, swallowing the loud catty laugh that comes up, and Madara doesn’t pay him any mind while Hikaku only sighs.

Mari looks at Sakura, who looks up in resignation and sadness, and nods, “Yes, it would be an honor.”

She helps her up and Madara is quick to leave the table with a swat to Izuna’s head when he makes kissy faces at him. Within reaching distance he grabs her hand to bring to his lips for a kiss then wraps her fingers around his elbow. The breath that leaves her mouth is silent, but he can feel the appreciation as she lays her weight on him as he escorts her out of the rowdy room with Mari trailing behind.

“I have thought of you many nights,” he begins, looking down at her, “and I am impatiently waiting for the day I can make you my Uchiha matriarch.”

The fingers on his elbows curl tightly and she puts as much distance she can while he supports her on her dead feet. He chuckles at her prideful and stubborn display.

“Of course,” she mumbles watching the floor and counting the doors they pass. Just five more until they reach her room and then she can allow herself to have a good cry in solitude.

He pauses, watching as Mari slides ahead to open the door, and holds Sakura back with a frown as the darkness of the room greets them. There is a stillness in the room that seems wrong, almost like it has been staged, and Madara scowls heavily when he notices the culprit.

Sakura looks up confused, even with the seals on her ankles dampening her chakra ability it has by no means stopped the ability to feel it. The scorching energy flows hot and angry and it lashes as a beacon, “Madara-sama?”

He grabs her roughly by the waist and she squeals, wrapping a muscled arm around to keep her in place against his chest and as Mari turns to them wide eyed. Sakura screams when Mari gurgles, blood spilling from her mouth, as a sword rips through her chest soaking the front of the kimono that Sakura had helped Touka pick for her mother. She falls dead to the floor with glassy eyes staring at Sakura with a mouth open in a silent scream.

“Come out,” Madara calls out calmly. He doesn’t yell, afraid it will scare Sakura more than she already is as she trembles in his arms crying and pleading for her Aunt to get up.

“Unhand my fiancé you scum,” is the voice that growls in response. Hatake Sano steps over Mari’s body, letting out a feral snarl as he rips the sword out, the squelch of blood makes Sakura quiet. The lines on his face are more pronounced, deep and heavy, he’s disheveled and unshaven sporting a white patchy beard, and it tells Madara just how far he’s fallen. He comes to the sudden realization that Hatake Sano is displaying signs of a soul bond separation.

It is possible to have more than one soul mark, but the possibilities of actually coming into contact with more than one soul mate is unheard of. Perhaps the reason Senju Butsuma was adamant in the marriage between the Hatake and his daughter was not merely a show of goodwill in honoring his second wife’s family, but to save his daughter the agony of not reciprocating the bond.

Squeezing Sakura tighter against his body he vows to rip his throat out before the night ends. She will not be taken from him. He refuses to share and their bond, once completed on their wedding night, will be fed constantly of his fire chakra to ease the burden of the Hatake’s mark left behind after his death.

“…Sano-kun?”

The sound of her voice seems to calm Sano and he eases his stance to look at her with a gentle smile lighting his features. The blood speckled on his face distorts the smile and she shakes harder in Madara’s arms.

“My love,” he exhales in relief.

Roots rip from the floor, reaching for Sano and he nimbly jumps away, bypassing each spike of wood aimed at his heart. He slashes quickly, cutting vines that try to wrap around his person, and throws a chair at Tora who maneuvers in the room of roots and vines. Hikaku is at his back with a sword to parry his attacks.

Hashirama calmly walks down the hall with an easy smile, Izuna at his side, “Sano-kun, what a pleasure. I had no idea you were visiting today. I wish I had known sooner otherwise I wouldn’t have sent Tobi to see you.”

“Cut the shit,” he snarls, “You’ve made a great offense against me and my clan!”

Hashirama’s smile drops off his face, “Are you sure this is the path you wish to take? I was generous the first time you failed to listen,” he cocks his head to the side, “You are, after all, family, and I would hate to make Tobi sad if I killed his younger cousin.”

As if Tobirama hears his name he appears suddenly in a blinding flash of lighting and thunder. He stands at his cousin’s side causing Hashirama to scowl and Sano to smirk. Confused, the Uchiha men tense watching as Tobirama and Hashirama face off, worried if there will be bloodshed. Madara’s fire chakra blazes and leaks, filling the room in oppressive heat. While he lets the mangekyou spark alive he notices something the rest of his men haven’t and relaxes.

Sakura turns inside the vice grip Madara has on her waist and pulls on his top to get his attention. She tugs repeatedly until he catches her tiny hand in his, tenderly holding it and placing it against his beating heart. He smiles down at her, the mangekyou illuminating the room and frightening her.

“Please,” she begs him, “I’ll do anything you want, but please don’t let Niisan kill him, please, I beg of you.”

“Sakura?” Sano watches confused as she refuses to look at him. Tobirama shifts beside him nervously.

Madara hums, “Anything?”

“Yes! Anything,” she cries, “Just please…please…”

He folds her into his arms, wrapping her securely, pulls his angry chakra back to strip clean in order to wash her in warm heat. After dropping a kiss on her head, he turns to Hashirama who nods back in understanding, “Very well.”

In that moment Tobirama flares his chakra activating the seal on Sakura’s floor, trapping Sano against his will. He roars in anger and Hashirama chuckles in delight.

“I did forewarn you Hatake Sano, this would not end well for you,” he says merrily. He gives the signal to Tora who waits by a large root and he saunters up whistling while brandishing his katakana. 

“Good job little brother,” he tells Tobirama and his brother bares his teeth at him claiming his displeasure for all to see. Hikaku makes it a point to move far away from him and goes to stand beside Madara.

“I’ll be taking my leave. It’s been a long day and I need rest,” he growls to Hashirama, “And Sakura will be joining me from now on. No more missions, no more distractions until the wedding day, do you hear me Anija?”

“Of course. Sleep well,” he tells him, dismissing him, and watches as Tobirama takes Sakura from Madara, cradling her in his arms as she silently weeps. Sano screams when the first finger is chopped off.

Madara takes it upon himself to collect another finger, “She’s mine!”

———–

Sakura spends the morning of her seventeenth birthday sitting on the engawa, watching as the hustle and bustle of the day begins. The tinkling of the wind chime sings in the breeze and the chirping of the birds echo that song. She moves to find a better position and the movement causes jingles from the gold adorned on her wrists and ankles.

“You’re up early, birthday princess.”

She blinks up at Uchiha Madara, half smile in place and dark eyes twinkling back down at her. There’s a sudden flush of embarrassment when she notices his sleep yukata wide open, but Sakura stamps it down when he settles next to her and shuffles closer none the wiser. He twirls a lock of her blush colored hair and brings it up to his face to leave a kiss.

“You should be resting, darling,” he takes a hold of her shoulder, rubbing warmth into her skin then skims his hand along her side, squeezing her breast, then settling it around her rounded belly.

“In a little bit,” she whispers, dragging her eyes away from him to stare at Izuna waving excitedly from his side of the house, and places a hand on top of his on her extended belly. He pours chakra out, warm and possessive, to wash over her and the mark on her neck pulses uncomfortably a few times before it settles. She gives a sigh of relief, feeling the tension leave from her limbs and the baby kicks against the skin of her belly.

“As you wish though you should really be resting in bed,” he hums, molding himself around her contently, caging her in his arms and keeping her trapped.

She looks up into the sky, eyes trailing after the birds that soar, chirping and singing their song. Sakura blinks a tear away, “In a little bit.”


End file.
